


The Major Arcana

by Heavydirtys0ul, things-we-used-tc-share (Heavydirtys0ul)



Series: Wasteland, Baby! [36]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Heavydirtys0ul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/things-we-used-tc-share
Summary: A small book of one-shots from my Wasteland, Baby series!





	1. The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> *ċkejken ħut means little fish, or small fish, and is Maltese. 
> 
> Warnings: Childbirth, pregnancy

_ **The Fool: The Major Arcana tells the story of an individual's path towards completion. Being the first card, the fool therefore a blank slate, a representation of purity and innocence of a child that knows nothing of the world. New journeys are signalled here, and the fool is full of energy. He does not know the dangers that can beset him during his travels, and thus stumbles forward with blind optimism, never suspecting that he may be walking a thin tightrope. Reversed, this card can represent that in your excitement to start a new journey, you have not heeded the dangers that surround you. This card suggests eagerness and no awareness of consequence. You must plan more carefully your journey ahead. Who else do your actions affect?** _

\--

The whole ocean shook with those tears, Logan could taste it in the water; the fear, the pain, it was unlike anything he’d ever heard before, he asked the water what was causing it and the water showed him the way. The Siren ducked out from above the waves as he reached land and stared at the screaming woman that lay there, her eyes dark brown and weeping enough to fill the seas alone. His heart stuttered in his chest and he raced to her side. Distantly, he wondered if the Gods has answered his fear of being alone. 

At first, she feared him, cowering away, but too weak to fight off anything in her agony. Logan offered her his hand and she took it. “What’s wrong?” He asked her, having never seen a person in labor before, let alone a Human woman. “You’re in pain,” 

“And water is_ wet,_” She replied snappily, half angry, mostly tired “I’m giving birth,” Logan’s eyebrows raised as he realised he has no way to truly help her, he knows nothing about birth or Humans or especially and most _certainly_, Human birth. He isn’t even sure how pregnancy works for himself or what it’s like and he’s definitely_ not_ helping by overthinking this. 

“Lie down, I will help,” He does hope that the baby comes out the same place and same way, that much is for certain, as he offers her some of his venom for the pain and kneels in the sand to aid her. 

\--

After the child has been delivered, the woman falls asleep. She’d been in labor on this beach for hours and her body was so exhausted. Logan bathed the child gently and sat in the sand as he held the fragile little thing in his arms, waiting for her to wake. The baby cried, so Logan sang too and fed her as they both waited for the woman to wake. “What a strange thing you are,” he uttered in disbelief “To think you come from someone, are grown within someone,” The Siren shakes his head incredulously. “But it takes two to create something like you, so where is the other?” The beach is deserted, has been for hours, what had she been doing here alone? Why had she not called for help?

Perhaps she did, and that is why Logan is here.

When the woman wakes, she stares at Logan, all pointed ears and sharp teeth and asks why he looks like that “You can see?” He asks incredulously “Usually Humans can never see past a glamour,” It is almost detrimental for them to do so, but she isn’t afraid nor mad as she stares into Logan’s impossibly wide pupils, in fact she barely seems to care at all. _What a strong thing she must be, are Humans all this **weird?** _The Siren thinks to himself. He holds out the baby to her and she shakes her head, still catching her breath “I’m a Siren,” There’s a quiet pause before he asks “What’s your name? How did you get here?’ 

“I came down here to run away,” She sighed “My name is Carmel,” What a beautiful name, what a beautiful women; if Logan ever decides to fall in love with a Human, or even in general, he hopes they’re as beautiful as she is. In soul, that is, talking to a Siren when you know they’re a Siren is something so rare; especially from creatures that _kill_ everything they fear. “What’s your name?”

“Logan,” He’d chosen it himself, it means ‘one who is hollow’ which is what he’d always been led to believe about himself. “And the baby? What will you call them?” 

“Why so curious?” She gives a half smile and finally takes the baby from Logan “She isn’t hungry, did you feed her?” A nod “How?” The dark eyed woman blinks carefully and looks Logan over, from his ragged clothes to his sharp ears and hollow cheeks, he’s so pale it’s a wonder that he has any milk to offer. “Or maybe I don’t want to know,” She sighs “I could ask you a million questions only to get a million more,” Carmel is not wrong in this; Humans can spend millennia studying Faeries and Demons and only get five solid answers. “Thank you, for your aid, I don’t know how I could repay you,”

“I’m a Siren not a Sprite,” Logan utters, almost half offended “I don’t collect debts like a woodland Faery,” He scoffs lightly, and she cannot understand what he means but she also knows she doesn’t really want too, only that she now knows there are worst things in the forest than men. And the sea. And perhaps everywhere. Solace is far too tired to realise and understand her Earth is shared with those more powerful than her. Which again, is not limited to _men_.

“But I would like to repay you,” She looks down at the baby in her arms, the little eyes are closed and small fists balled near a tiny mouth. Logan would think the price to be worth it if he hadn’t held her hand for two hours, easing that child out of her whilst she_ screamed_ in agony. Children, he decides, are not worth it. But how is he ever supposed to think that when his kind are treated like animals and slaves? “Logan is a nice name,” She looks down at the small creature that sleeps in her arms. “I think I will call her that,” 

“Names are extremely powerful,” he warns “They’re important, are you sure you wish to...”

“I made my decision_ ċkejken ħut, _but you best be on your way,” Carmel smiles with exhaustion in her eyes “I have a day to face whether I want too or not,” She looks down at her baby with soft eyes and a kind smile, her brown skin shining in the hot sunlight. “And you should stop travelling alone, it isn’t good for anyone,” Logan helps her stand and she presses a gentle kiss to his cheek “If you ever return, you will find me, Gozo is small enough,” 

He watches her go before turning to the bright blue sea, his heart feels strange in his chest as it beats. It skips around as his mind tells him he has more to say but he cannot think what it is that needs to be said. When he turns back with some semblance of a sentiment on his tongue, she is already gone. 

Logan sighs, as though the idea of retaining loneliness has suddenly become too hard. Perhaps it is time for him to leave Europe, perhaps there are places that treat him better. He dips his toes at the water’s edge and nods “America, I want to go to America,” His decisive tone causes the water chuckles over their loved child and happily sets his route for him. 

Perhaps there is more to life than his content alone-ness than he first thought.


	2. The Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emile's life, Remy's life, and how Virgil came to love Roman, in many different ways.

** _The Lovers: A union of harmony, full of trust, confidence and strength. This relationship is one that represents both a physical attraction and a deep emotional bond between them. It can also represent an inner harmony between two aspects of one's personality; anima and animus, yin and yang. When reversed, this can symbolise that in a partnership there may be a feeling that one party is taking or giving too much. Are the feelings in your relationship mutual? Or, conversely, there may be disagreements- between either two parts within yourself, or amongst your relationships. _ **

_\--_

_The Beginning _

The night was cold and the air frail when a knock occurred at the leader of the Coven's door. He lit a candle and held it to the darkness, opening the door to find a Faery prince on the other side, looking startled and a uncharacteristically afraid. "May we confer?" Roman asked, his ivy-covered red wings fluttering behind his back as though unnerved "I may have come across something that belongs to you," And the elderly man, who doesn't look a day over thirty, nods and gestures for the Faery to enter his home, a bundle of cloth in his arms. "We did the best we could but we're not exactly used to healing Witches," The prince pulls the cloth aside to reveal a baby so small and fragile that they could not physically be alive, _surely_. Before the Witch can find it within himself to be upset, Roman continues "Somehow, he's still alive, he's breathing, his heartbeat is strong I can feel it," The Witch looks to Roman and then leans to press two fingers gently to the fragile creature's neck, tiny wings shift at the feeling, a quiet snuffle of noise is given. The two exchange a wide smile, ecstatic. The Coven leader calls for someone with some idea of healing magic to come and check up. An elderly woman comes to their aid but in the noise of exchanged whispers, half the Coven awakes to stand outside and pray as the small, pale little thing is given check ups and potions.

No one expected the baby to make it through the night, his bones visible through paper-thin skin, so pale that the snow would blend to his skin. His wings injured, bent awkwardly and shifting painfully as he tries to adjust to a beating heart. This baby had been born too small, too early, and abandoned in the cold Winter. Roman does not leave the child's side, his wings folded against his back as he surveys and waits patiently, eyes barely leaving the sickly creature that had been brought to him. By design the Coven is difficult to find by anyone but himself, so when his subjects had found the child they had understood the best course of action for the little creature's survival was for him to be brought too Roman. 

The prince had called for a doctor, they had done the best they could to keep him alive but Faery magic and Witch magic are not the same type, their bodies and biology not the same, they could only do so much until the Prince had set for the Coven, child tucked against his chest protectively in desperation to save the poor thing. 

The sunrise peaks over the hill when the elderly Witch has finished healing the baby, fixing broken bones and wings, returning his heartbeat to a steady and proper pace. The baby, bright eyes opening, stares curiously and tiredly but does not cry. He is in no pain now and his energy is starting to return, cheeks turning rosy, wings curled for warmth around him as he watches the world that he now gets to live in. Tired Witches gathering cheer quietly and excitedly as a quiet gurgle escapes the baby's throat, and Roman, exhausted with the rollercoaster his night has been, _cries_ with relief. "You should name him, my prince," The elderly woman said with a smile "Gods know I have named many children in my day, without you he would not be here, and one day he will choose his own name, but for now..._you_ should name him," 

Roman chuckles, a cruel joke on his tongue "Mallory," He smiles, because he knows the meaning of names too well, and because he knows this child will somehow surprise him again one day. "His name is Mallory, until he chooses his own,"

\--

_The Child_

"You love that boy too much," The old Witch teases Roman, who laughs a little "Teaching him your language, reading him folk tales, my prince, you might as well be giving him your last name," The prince shakes his head a little, mixing herbs in a bowl, his eyes go to Mallory, who is giggling lightly at the colourful pages of a book that at two years old he can read. It isn't even the only language he can read; this Witch is clever, much cleverer than many of the young Witches that the old lady has helped raise in her time. Although he can read, and does, he rarely enjoys speaking. "You should prepare yourself for the worst," The old lady had told Roman "He was very sick Roman, there's a chance it has damaged him,"

"If he never speaks then that is no damage," The Prince chuckled "He will simply communicate some other way and I will have to do the learning for a change," The Witch had smiled in response, never quite tiring of Roman's ability to love things like the world had no hardship or evil; every challenge a new reason to smile and care. "Isn't that right Mallory?" Mallory nodded so matter-of-factly it was as though he were a few years older than he appeared. It had made Roman laugh. 

"I need to go tend to the little fire demon we've accumulated," the old lady sighed "I've half a mind to bring that child here you know," She leans against the side with a look between frustration and upset "I have every respect and understanding for Virginia, I really do, but a 14-year-old is raising a baby and he's barely over the fact his father has abandoned him it's simply not fair and not right," Roman rests a comforting hand on her shoulder, she smiles up at the prince like an old friend; and they are old friends, but she never quite drops the respect she has for him. "And now the little one is setting things on fire accidentally! We've not had a pyro in the Coven in many years, it's causing _quite_ the upset," She grabs her bag off of the side "I'll leave you with him, but if he starts trying to put a Faery curse on me you're doing the cleaning," The Prince bows a little. 

"Of course, good luck," As she leaves, Roman sits beside Mallory and begins to read to him, the story book that is open on the table talks of princes and a king, and a new world being born. That is the first time that Roman truly considers Remy Sanders, who at the time was not at all called Remy Sanders. It's the first time he considers Virgil Sanders more carefully than the scrawny teenage boy that never gets a teenage hood, he doesn't at this time, of course, consider him as any object of romantic fascination but certainly one of intense worry. Why is this boy alone being a single father to a child that is supposed to be his little brother? 

He looks at Mallory, then out of the door, and devises a plan. 

\--

_Roman's Attempt at Tackling Two Birds With One Stone._

"With all due respect, I don't understand," Virgil stares up at the Faery prince, who is at least a head taller than him and who is certainly much prettier in person. the Witch had done a spectacular job at not being anywhere near Roman, he doesn't particularly trust any Faery, let alone a prince of them, no matter how much his reputation would dictate that he is the kindest and most loving man one could meet. "He's fine here with me, alone," 

"But surely you would like to go outside? Be alone without a two-year-old to care for, you're how old? Fourteen? So very young and with a long life to live, but these are years where you should know yourself, not be caring for a baby, Virgil," Virgil winces a little at the sound of his name coming from a Faery's mouth, a look on his face that shows he is so very unnerved by the fact his name is known by the one thing in which names are a powerful weapon. "We can take care of the child, introduce him to Mallory and let him interact with someone his own age instead of forcing you to be cooped up in here with a child, it isn't healthy for either of you," Virgil shakes his head, the first person to stand up against a Faery prince. 

"He's fine here with me,"_ I don't want him anywhere near you._ "I know he's safe here," Roman's wings droop dejectedly, but he knows when to take no for an answer, and leaves. 

\--

_An Upset Prince_

"Mallory could you go upstairs for a moment?" Roman smiles down at the child, Mallory is clever and knows that his father-figure is upset but he's also clever enough to know when he's to do as he's told. The six-year-old clambers up the ladder with a lot more dexterity than what Roman had at his age. But Roman has also always been extremely clumsy it's a wonder how he go to be a Prince, how he got to survive this long permanently. The old woman, whose name is Adelaide but most people just refer to her as "The Old Lady," is the oldest member of the coven and the one who has helped heal and raise many children, both Human and Witch. So many years she has known Roman, she has never quite seen him look like a thunderstorm before, it would unsettle her if she didn't know he's incapable of willingly hurting a fly. 

"What's troubling you, my prince?" She asks carefully. 

"The boy, the Pyro boy," 

"Well he is troubling almost everyone my dear, you may have to be more specific," Her voice is not patronising, but she smiles and Roman feels safe, he feels calmer and like his emotions are not just an after effect of something dramatic, but rather a genuine feeling that everyone else feels. Sometimes, he knows the younger Witches tease him for being so emotional, and the older ones will chuckle at his theatrics; he's a Faery and this is part of who they are. But, when Adelaide smiles and reassures him he knows he isn't just being dramatic, that his emotions are valid and understandable.

"Well firstly the little thunderstorm is unnerving to me, he won't let anyone near the child, he's incredibly defensive of him, it's unhealthy for them to be co dependant on each other in such a way, he is becoming addicted to being a parent to a child that isn't even his whilst his mother wastes away in a prison of her own mind, Virgil has absolutely no understanding of how to raise a child and the way he's raising him is...it's as though he doesn't want the little one to make friends and socialise and grow to be independent," Roman's long nails scratch nervously at the inside of his own wrist "No one is teaching the little one how to manage his powers and he keeps randomly setting things alight and often it's the forest, and I can hear it screaming in agony," Adelaide winces at the words sympathetically "He is raising that child with only his own love and I respect him for trying but this Coven is a community, it's existence is founded in the ability to share a workload and it's as though Virgil refuses to let that happen," 

Adelaide rests a comforting hand over the prince's, who has wilting flowers in his crown and a dejected look upon his face. His wings droop and the life he is known for is only replaced by hopelessness. She can feel it radiating from him like a poison. "We cannot make Virgil see reason, he is young and stubborn and one day he may regret it, but you can't save everyone Roman," The prince nods in agreement even though he doesn't want to agree "You have a wonderfully gifted child upstairs, whose life you helped save and although you never needed too you did, and you have helped raise him too, which is something none of us could have asked for but you did it, and Mallory is here because of you, remember this when you place the weight of the world on your shoulders," Roman nods, then he smiles. Adelaide sighs "Oh I know that look, you're up to no good again," He laughs a little. "Don't include me, keep me out of your schemes!" She waves him away, wondering what is on his mind so much now that the sudden waves of happiness fill the room. 

\--

_Two is Better Than One_

Mallory had a habit of being able to make everyone like him; it's not hard considering he is officially the youngest person in the entire Coven to learn to become a doctor, and he's always smiling, nurturing the world around him and in general is as loving as you would expect someone who has been partially raised by the prince of all life in the forest. His influence does not stop at Virgil. When the boy, almost seven now, knocks on Virgil's door with a basket full of flowers and a wide smile, not even the teenager can frown at him; sighing as he lets the Faery's adopted son into his home. "They're protections," Mallory explained, placing the basket down "They'll wilt in two weeks, come back and get some more, but the spell should help keeping him from setting everything on fire," He doesn't talk like a seven year old, he talks like someone who has read many books in three different languages. He talks like he knows he's right, he talks like he genuinely _cares_. 

Virgil takes the woven flowers and places it on the table "Thank you, Mallory," He thanks the child stiffly, even with his own to look after, the elder Witch is not so good with children. "Was that all?" Mallory shifts a little, clearing his little throat as he hugs the basket to his chest almost protectively. 

"I would like to see him some time, our naming ceremonies are coming up soon and...well after that we're considered almost adults, he shouldn't be alone, not that he's alone with you it's just...I love my work and Roman but I know what it feels like to not talk to people my own age and exist with them, not because anyone prevents me but because I'm studying really hard to be a doctor and help people!" he insists a little shakily, his wings flutter nervously. "And I think he would be better...not alone and you would be better not alone, and..." he glances upstairs where he knows the younger Witch is playing with whatever toys he has "I get the feeling one day you might need my help," He swallows dryly "So if you ever need me, please come and get me," He steps back a little "I will do anything for all of you to be safe,"

As he leaves, his words weigh on Virgil's shoulders like a heavy weight. He stores them for a long time, glancing at the burn mark on the back of his hand that he had haphazardly healed himself. He feels like one day they might need him too.

\--

_Naming_

The wind blows calmly on an unsettled crowd. Roman sits in a tree, sipping honey from a crystal glass as he watches the Witches titter with excitement, he's seen a few preparations for naming ceremonies but this is the first time he's actually attended one personally; he hadn't really felt it was his place to join in on the celebrations but he'd been _officially_ invited to this one, he is the closest thing to a father that Mallory has, after all. Or soon to be something else. Roman doesn't know which name he's chosen, he also gets the benefit of choosing his surname considering he'd never been given an official surname, but Mallory had insisted it be a surprise so Roman had smiled and humoured him, wishing him luck. Now he sits above and watches, sipping his drink as the handful of young ones waited with a circle of the rest of the Coven around them.

The leader of the Coven is wearing all black, and a smile on his face as he gestures to the young Witches with a smile "Friends, welcome," they all chose their own outfits for the ceremony, but Mallory had gone with something traditional, he was raised partially by a Faery and to him this culture is just as important as his birthright, his long net skirt has flowers sewn into it carefully and with all the delicacy of someone who knows how to treat things with care. The shirt, white, is tucked into it and a crown of flowers is placed onto his head. This is their official initiation not just into the Coven but into their chosen pathways of life, where they choose their name and their life from henceforth. 

Virgil's brother goes first, he looks a little nervous by all the eyes on him, but smiles warmly as his previous name is called. He stands to the stone alter and places his hands down on the table, when asked for his name, he grins "Remington Sanders," A line of blood is drawn on the back of his hands as he concentrates "And I chose to be an Elementalist," No surprises there, that boy can start a fire as quickly as he can blink, and at least now he's chosen a path that allows him to learn how to control that. Elementalists control one of the four main elements; Fire, Water, Air or Earth. Virgil is also an Elementalist, although he surpassed that stage and has long since learned how to communicate with the Weather Spirits. "But you can all call me Remy," The boy adds, his smile cheeky and much calmer as he adjusts, little pieces of laughter ripple through the crowd and Roman nods to the boy as they make eye contact. 

Mallory is last. There's a small quiet when he steps up, as the Coven leader asks for his name, he takes a deep breath "Emile Picani Ó Cárthaigh," Roman almost slips on the branch a little, inhaling sharply. A few murmurs ran around the crowd but the leader does not flinch, he raises his eyebrows a little, nodding as Emile holds out his hands "I chose to be a Healer," Roman feels his chest swell with pride, a feeling he'd never felt that is so overwhelming that he brings a hand to his face to find his eyes watering. Emile had chosen his name. 

_His_ name.

One of Roman's many, many times. 

Faeries don't get given a singular name, their names are so long and complex so they may never be used against one another; although compelling another Faery to do your bidding takes so much energy alone it isn't impossible. But Emile had studied Roman's name enough to know which one he was going to choose. And he chose right. He'd chosen both a Human surname and a Faery, a lot of Faery surnames come from Gaelic origins, or perhaps a lot of Gaelic surnames originate from Faeries, there's no real way to know _that_ history. Not unless you want to try and hold a book keeper at knifepoint and demand the answer.

And his _wonderful_ Emile, a healer. Of course, he could never have been anything else and this is no surprise, but Roman hopes the young boy realising what a horrifying profession he has chosen for himself, to surround himself with the sick and injured and dying for the rest of his life, he has chosen to put others before him for eternity. Somehow, Roman does know that Emile knows this; and furthermore, he knows that he accepted this into his heart when he chose this oath.

\--

_Emile has a crush_

Roman sits on the counter top with a book on his lap when Emile races through the door, closing it behind himself with a loud exhale. The Faery looks up with a raised eyebrow as the twelve year old, flushing sixteen shades of red, drops his basket and coat on the floor and then faceplates the bed with a noise of frustration. "Is something the matter?" The prince asks, half worried and half amused. Emile makes a noise in response, and something the could have been words that are muffled by the pillow as he flails a hand out by way of explanation "try again Emile dear," The Witch lifts his face up, resting his weight on his arms

"Boys," He whines pitifully "Boys and their pretty smiles," And then he plants his face back in the pillow again. Roman chuckles and shuts the book, sliding off of the counter to sit cross-legged on the floor beside Emile's bed, resting his chin on his hand as he looks up at the young Witch. Emile sighs and sits up, folding his wings neatly. "Remy," He mutters, and then a daydream look crosses his face and he rests his chin on his hands as he stares at nothing but his own dreams. "He's just so cute! But he's also an obnoxious little....eurgh!" The frustrated boy throws his hands in the air in exasperation "You know?"

"That's simply what men are like my dear," Roman chuckles, as if Virgil hadn't recently hit twenty one and now suddenly has a jaw line and his horns have gone such a lovely colour and his eyes are like a field of violets and..."Those brothers will be the death of us both I'm afraid, tea?" He shuffles to stand up, and Emile grins, grabbing his sleeve and tugging, eyebrows raised "Well I must admit I may be in a. little bit of a predicament myself with..._Virgil,_" The way he says his name sounds like a sigh "I've barely paid attention the past couple of years and then I ran into him as I was returning with a book for you and...gods, he is _beautiful,_" Roman's wings flutter a little withe excitement "I'll make that tea," he mutters after a moment. "I feel like we're going to need it,"

They talk with their pot of tea for a good hour, and Roman admits he is unsure how to feel about his feelings for Virgil "He is quite young you see," He explains "Even though he is immortal he is...only in his second decade and I worry of the implication," He sips his tea "If he is too young for me, yet his world experience is greater than my own and he talks to _me_ like _I_ am the child," Roman sighs a little "I admit I don't know if I should pursue these feelings when he seems barely able to comprehend his own, and furthermore if he is too young for me should I really be indulging these ideas, he's long since passed the age of consent for such relationships, by five years I believe, but I don't know if I am personally comfortable when I am very old, Emile, I only look as young as my powers grant me," 

Emile shrugs a little "I'm still a child," He shrugs "but every day I stitch together wounds, treat burns, put bones back into place, things that some adults can't even stomach, a mother stood outside whilst I set her little boy's leg back in place because she couldn't stand the sight without her stomach lurching, in our culture we of course have our laws and ages of consent but beyond our literal years we also have the ages that we become, I do a job that men in their first century cannot do in my first decade of living, and Virgil is no child, he's not only an adult but by a few years and he raised a child Roman, we're all as young as we make ourselves," 

"You need to stop being clever, it's unnerving," Roman replied, finishing his tea "Tell me about Remy,"

And Emile does, he talks about Remy and how he's worried about him, about his smile, about the activities that he shouldn't be doing that he is doing behind the backs of the elder Witches. "He keeps putting himself in danger," Emile muttered "And I can't tell anyone because I don't want him to get hurt or be punished," For a moment, for once, Emile truly does look like a twelve year old boy.

Witches don't have the same chronological growth pattern that Human beings do, they age fast and then stop aging for a few decades, their brains develop much faster too, they can hold and store knowledge much more efficiently. Even their perspectives often to be older than their journeys around the sun. Then of course, Emile, incredibly clever even by the standards of a Witch, he's always loved learning so intensely that he learned to speak three languages before he had even reached seven years old, one of them being Roman's own language. But right now he looks simply lost and scared, like he doesn't know what to do. "We have another five years before we can take part in Lupercalia for a reason," Emile muttered, looking around "Remy has not been so eager to wait," Roman's face softens a little, understanding why Emile is so worried now "We haven't even been taught how to take care of ourselves with things like that yet and I know that it can be dangerous when it's not done right, I read about it," Emile admits, cheeks heating a little "I don't think Virgil's taught him and if no one else is then what stops him getting hurt?" He sighs with frustration "I don't even understand the big deal or why he couldn't just wait!"

"But if you tell someone then he'll get into serious trouble, and so will whoever his partner...s are, and so will Virgil for not properly disciplining him," Witches have very few rules but when it comes to safety they take their rules very, _very_ seriously. "You should talk to him, tell him what you think and what you've read and advise him, but from there it's his own decision what he does Emile," Emile nods in agreement. 

"Okay," He shrugs "I guess there's nothing else to be done,"

\--

_Third-Degree Burns_

The hammering knock at the door in the middle of the night has Emile startling awake. Now that he's thirteen he mostly lives alone although Roman certainly visits during the day when he can. The knock startles him and his jolts out of bed to open it. The air is humid outside and Virgil stands on the other side with his teenage brother leaning on him, half knocked out. It takes Emile a moment to understand why Virgil is here and when he does his shaking hand covers his mouth between shock and something that makes his heart stammer in its chest. "Get him on the bed," Emile demands firmly, clapping his hands so the candles flicker alight and light up the entire room. He grabs a book and opens cupboards, grabbing handfuls of things before kneeling beside Remy's passed out body.

He takes a deep breath, cuts Remy's shirt open and surveys the damage with a hollow feeling in his stomach. The skin is so badly burned and smells of charred flesh, blood clinging to exposed muscle and...he can't think too hard, he has to heal him. "How the..." He takes a deep breath, preparing a bowl full of herbs and water and a liquid that smells like salt "How did this happen?" He doesn't mean for it to sound so accusatory, but Virgil's mouth only opens and closes with tears in his eyes. Emile curses under his breath, opens the book and begins to work. 

He works for hours, repairing damaged muscle, tissue and skin so intricately as though weaving a silk quilt from fine threads. He works until he is exhausted, eyes ringed red from sleep deprivation but he does not falter until everything is perfect. He works and works until his hands tremble and his heart feels like it's breaking in it's cage, staring at Remy's pale and scarred face until it has been healed.

When there is not a scar in sight, Emile places a cold, damp towel over the boy's clammy forehead, bringing a lit stick of sage to Remy's nose to let the scent waft over him, causing him to slowly open he eyes. The doctor breathes with relief, slumping down against the cold wood floor and out of breath like he'd just ran a marathon. "If you do that to me again," the doctor whispers, and he doesn't know to which brother he is talking "I will _fucking_ kill you myself," Remy gives a small smile and closes his eyes, whilst Virgil rests his tired head in his hands.

\--

_Starlight _

Emile had expected many things to come home to today, one of them was not Virgil and Roman making out on his counter top "Oh Gods why?" He scolds, letting the door fall shut behind him "I'm very happy you two have decided to stop your weird little dance around each other but guys, come on, there's a spare room upstairs at least use that!" He tuts, waving them both off of his counter top "Virgil have you seen Remy? I got him the flowers he needed," He holds up a bouquet of flowers, and Roman's eyebrows raise a little. Remy is not all that good at romantic gestures, but Roman knows Emile _has_ to be pointedly ignoring the flowers in his hands. 

"Roses?" He asked, eyebrow raised. 

"It's not like that," Emile mutters, placing them down on the counter with flushed cheeks "I'm sure he just needed them for a spell or something of the like," Virgil snorts in response, before clearing his throat a little. "You two try not to desecrate my house whilst I'm gone," He sighs a little, grabbing his bouquet of flowers and heading out again, deciding he doesn't really want to think about the fact that Roman and Virgil got their happy ever after whilst he tries and gets this stupid boy to admit feeling anything much at all. 

Remy finds him quickly enough, his smile bright and mischievous "Do you trust me?" He asks, Emile replies yes but in his heart his answer is much more hesitant. He takes Remy's offered arm anyway, the bouquet still in his free hand as the two wander into the forest amongst the setting sun. "We're going to do some astrology," He explains once they reach the clearing, the two of them sit down. "But mostly the stars just look so nice from here," By the way he speaks, this is the first time he's ever brought anyone else here. By the way he smiles, he's glad it's Emile. 

\--

_Rinse and Repeat_

Over the next few years Remy and Emile dance around each other like a fire that doesn't want to catch alight. Remy would invite Emile to star gaze with him, they would lie beside each other an inch apart but feel the backs of their hands graze. Once, Remy looked to the side and found Emile watching him instead, their noses were almost touching as though they'd drawn closer together by accident, and then they had looked away with red cheeks and pretended nothing happened.

Then, the fire started.

It was just minor burns at first, the palms of his hand or the back of his arm. Small things that took a mere half an hour to sort out. Then it was like that first night again, chest and back, arms, legs, hands, neck, face. Every time Remy would stumble in and Emile would fix him. This is where our story here must leave, for you know the rest. Emile would end nights in heartbreak and nightmares, and his days patching up a boy he loves so greatly but fears ever telling. Until that day. That one day where they both give up and give in, and Emile finally succumbs to the life of loving a hurricane that never can be quit.


	3. The Wheel of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's relationship with Dee, with a dash of exactly how awful Remus could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for; some gore and I guess cannibalism? I mean Faeries aren't people but Remus takes a chunk out of someone (fourth section so you can skip over it)

> **"Greater forces that are outside of human control are at work here. The same forces that govern the changing of the seasons, or the rising and setting of the sun is also the master of luck and the fate of individuals. This card represents the inevitable changing of cycles,"**

* * *

Roman can hear the silence as it reaches through the trees and rests against his shoulders; an intimidating feeling for someone now very aware of his own crimes. He has to ask himself if it’s worth it, really, to feel blood on his hands, to see the pain he has caused; is it worth being a mighty prince if the price you pay is everything you are? He doesn’t know how to forgive himself.

“Cheer up brother,” Remus grins, leaning an arm around his twin’s shoulder, he still smells like gore and there is blood stained to his clothes; but that is simply who Remus is, carnage, and a lot of it. Roman says nothing because he does not know what to say, instead he stares emptily at anything as he walks forward to claim his crown. ‘The prince of spring,’ they name him, and people kneel before the four of them, but Roman does not feel much like a prince at all. Much less the prince of life.

After the ceremony the faeries drink and sing and many few offer themselves up to their prince in ways that Roman really does not have the stomach for currently. He finds Dee hiding in a tree instead. “You are already doing wonderfully,” He calls up, spotting the light-yellow skirt amongst the orange leaves “Hiding from your subjects?”

There’s a low grumble and the faery jumps down, flapping his wings to keep balanced as he lands on the ground, he’s drunk, Roman can tell. “I am hiding from everyone else, my own kind I have no quarrel with,” He sighs and leans haphazardly against the tree, the side of his head pressing against the bark. “I take it you’re not faring so well either, you look as white as a sheet Roman,”

“I am spring,” The other replies quietly “This is not the way I was built to be,”

“Me neither,” There’s a long pause, punctuated only by the festivities in the background that neither of them feels like they should be partaking in. “I can still smell it, the blood,” His eyes close for a second and a shiver shot through him almost violently. “I feel like I have done something terrible that can never be undone, at what cost is it really Roman, to still see the blood on your hands long after you have scrubbed it off?”

“It could be worse,” Roman reasoned “You could be having to deal with your twin brother being the prince of winter,” They both look behind them, Remus is causing some sort of fuss as always.

“I think I would much rather off myself,” The prince of autumn replied callously, his face a grim picture as he glances to the other two, Thomas who looked as though he’s much rather be dealing with anyone but Remus, and Remus who is making use of the honey, men and women all available to him. “I think I may do it for the fun,”

Neither of them speaks after that, leaning back and waiting for this day to be over, to lay in wait for the future that they now have to build, for the lives that have been lost. For the stories that will never get told because of their own hands.

The lives they took to be the princes of their own kind.

\--

Thomas and Remus get along better than Roman and Remus had ever dreamt of. Roman is glad someone finally knows how to reign his brother in because honestly, he may have gone insane some years ago without Thomas. That’s not to say he likes the prince of summer, because he’s hot-tempered and overly critical, but he can certainly respect him if nothing else.

They had long since given up on the idea of truly working together, so at best they have managed to at least stay out of each other’s way. They’d tried for the first couple of years, but it had mostly ended up with Dee threatening to put Remus’ eyes out of his head.

“I _cannot_ stand him,” The prince of autumn scowled.

“Yes, but that doesn’t quite mean putting a knife to his throat,” Roman had countered.

“Do you see any other way of shutting him up?” Roman snorted and offered Damian a honey-roasted cigarette with a tired shake of his head, leaning against the balcony to his room. He takes the offered cigarette and lights it.

“I don’t think even death would keep my brother quiet,” There’s a low sigh framed by a cloud of smoke and an exhausted expression “If I knew for sure I would have killed him by now,” Damian knows his friend is not lying, he doesn’t doubt the anger and frustration in the other’s eyes. Growing up knowing there was another you but the opposite, the antithesis of you, cannot have been easy. Remus plays games with people’s lives and calls it fun, Roman has sought to protect so much. That night when they were crowned and Remus jeered at the bloodshed had really ripped apart any hope Roman had for his brother.

Damian rests his hand against Roman's back comfortingly as the prince leans against him, his head resting gently against his friend's shoulder "I am glad I have you, Roman," The voice that he speaks in is so soft, calm, the prince had always been the most eloquent of them all but there is something in the tone that has Roman looking up at him with such a soft look on his face. "I don't think I would have continued without you," Roman takes a deep breath and leans up off of the other Faery, his lips pulled into the smallest of smiles as he cups Damian's jaw, the cigarette still burning between his fingertips. It isn't hard to fall in love with Roman, not hard at all. Damian doesn't know when he felling love with him either, only that if he doesn't lean down and kiss him right now he may fall to piece entirely. So he does. He kisses him softly, gently, their lips slotting together briefly and carefully, before pulling back. Roman rests their foreheads together with a small smile.

"I think you would continue fine without me, but that you do not want too," 

"Perhaps," Dee replies quietly. A moment of silence descends upon them both before Roman leans up and kisses him again, harder and warmer and with a fiery passion that perhaps they both currently need, he finds his back pressed to the balcony and the smoke long forgotten as the two of them look for comfort in a cold situation.

\--

Their relationship comes with rough patches after a while. Dee is naturally manipulative; although Autumn Fae are generally quite kind, they are first and foremost protectors of knowledge. It's their day job to lie without lying so that certain elements of history may be kept secret, they are designed to be clever in the most Faery way possible; to be able to control someone else without so much as raising an eyebrow. 

And Roman gets sick of that fairly quickly too, he gets sick of the arguments over it. He gets sick of feeling less because of Damian's way of life, and as you know, eventually he turns away and doesn't quite look back. Roman never falls out of love, not really, every single person he's ever loved still lives in his heart, but he at least does not tell the other that once they eventually separate, because that would hurt them both far more than either of them can handle.

\--

Thomas is a lot of things. He's loud and not very calm, with an excitable temper. But somehow, in some way, he has a hold on Remus. As much as someone may have a hold on the wildfire of a Faery that is. At first, Roman and Dee had speculated it to be a romantic or sexual thing, the way Roman and Dee tend to work; but then they started to realise it's simply a matter of the fact that the prince of summer is _clever_. He understands just enough of how Remus ticks to get him to do as he's told, knows what he likes and dislikes and in some way their relationship is a little...brotherly. Thomas can only stand Remus' company under a certain amount of time before his patience wears thin, and then the prince of winter will be certainly looking for a quick slap around the back of the head to shut him up. 

Remus, for the most part, thinks Thomas' is terrible at being a summer Faery. After all these are the Faeries of lust and romance and fiery passion, but Thomas is neither interested in romance nor lust, for the most part he likes gossip, shouting and honey. He is the only one of the Faery princes not to have a particular set of subjects to tend to needs that usually Sumemr Faeries would demand, he's the only Faery Roman has ever known to either be extremely quiet about his one life, or simply not have one at all. Roman doesn't find him strange, but he definitely does not quite understand this. But, he also does not think it's ever any of his business, if Thomas wants his life like that, then that's the way it shall be. 

Although it certainly left him a little curious, if it's not sex keeping Remus in check, then he certainly has no idea what the critic does to keep him obedient. Roman had tried for many years to keep his brother on some semblance of a leash, to no avail. So he asks Thomas about it, out of curiosity, and the prince of summer laughed a little in response. "Your brother is not quite as cold or heartless as you think he is," He'd hummed, lighting a honey-sealed cigar and leaning against a tree "He needs company as much as anyone, and if you listen to someone complain for long enough, you might actually understand them," He offered Roman some of the cigar, which the spring Faery happily took, staring curiously up at the other man "Remus is a lot of things, impulsive, idiotic, bloodthirsty, but he's still a conscious person, he has a job to do like the rest of winter and that can't be changed, your issue is that you will never once want to understand Remus, because you're scared, and that's fine," Roman's eyebrows furrowed "Spring and winter sit so close together and yet as people could never be further apart, you don't have to understand him, I've got him for now," 

And Roman left it at that, because Thomas is most certainly right; the way Remus thinks and feels is not something he ever wants to know and cannot be something he understands, but Thomas most certainly can try. It wouldn't interfere with who he is as a person nor would it change his role in the world.

\--

"Roman," Thomas is a little breathless as he stands in Roman's home, his eyes looking wider and more scared that any expression the other had ever seen him wear "You have to come, it's urgent," The two had raced through the forest together, Thomas barely managing words; but Roman knew where they were heading and his heart sank. "He's going to fucking massacre them," 

Dee was waiting by the gate with a pale expression, the iron gates wide open in the dead of winter as though by invitation. "Someone purposefully left this gate open," Roman remarks "Who...and why, did someone make a deal?" Thomas shakes his head slowly, not having the answer which the other so clearly seeks, Damian does not move at all, his ears are pricking like he's hearing something the other's haven't quite caught yet. But then they do, a scream, a loud and sharp scream that fills their ears. Roman inhales sharply. "If someone has made a deal there's nothing we can do," the prince of spring whispers, looking withdrawn "Why wouldn't he tell us? this is...this goes against every reason that gate was put there in the first place, this puts us all in danger,"

Thomas makes a stressed noise a shakes his head "We have to go and stop him, deal or not, this is something that is directly against our rules here, and I'm not one for order but...going into the Human village to murder? You two are going to have to make a decision quickly, but personally I vote we drag Remus out of there," Roman nods in agreement, Dee seconds this action, and the three of them takes off towards the village. None of them have been here before, for most of their live there had been human settlement next to the forest, but the iron gates prevents them from ever entering. For a long time they'd thought they had rusted shut, but someone had certainly taken great liberties to make sure Remus got out. 

It's not hard to follow Remus, wherever he goes something is in pain not far behind him. Roman feels his gut churn as they push open the door to the house that seems to be containing the most noise. He treads up the stairs carefully, and feels his stomach lurch at the smell of blood. There's a man lying on the floor, blood pooling around him, the smell of gore creeping through Roman. And, then, his brother, sat against the wall with blood dripping from his mouth. The man screams in agony, holding a bloody stomach as blood seeped through the shirt. The spring faery knelt beside the man, he could feel his terror in a way that has thorns growing on the back of his own hands. "Why?" Roman whispered, tears filling his eyes as the human's blood drenched his own skin. "Why would you do this?"

And he remembers Thomas, the way he'd said that Roman does not want to understand Remus, and never before has he been happier and more terrified, to know he can never understand this. He looks to the man and presses a hand to his forehead "Sleep," Roman demands, the cries of agony stop. The body goes limp. The chest still rises and falls, and the spring prince has to wonder how many more breaths are left in him. He's just about to ask if it's worth taking him to a healer when the breathing stops, silenced by a metal blade through his chest; sharp and fast. Roman looks up at Remus, who now stands over him. 

"Because order has to be restored," Remus crouches beside his brother, his eyes glinting maniacally "I was owed a debt, and I collected it," Then he stands and walks towards the stairs, even Thomas seems to stare warily at the man, who still has blood drying on his face "Besides, I was hungry," Roman turns back to the man and lifts up the bloodied shirt slowly, terrified of what he's going to find. Then he turns and throws up on the wooden floor, shaking. 

It's one thing to know that the person you shared a womb with is a monster, and another to find the evidence first hand.

Remus had chewed his way straight through the muscle.

Dee lifts Roman up and pulls him back, he holds him because he can see the fury and the sickness in his eyes, can predict the way the Faery turns for his brother with a scream in his throat, ready to do some serious damage. Thomas grabs Remus by the hair and tugs him down the stairs back to the forest. "We have to..." Roman wipes his eyes "His family can't see him like this, we have to bury him," His heart aches in his chest, he'd sworn once never to meddle in Human affairs but...well it's not in Roman's DNA not to care. The two of them work through the night, clearing up the blood and gore, they take the body to the cemetery and unearth six feet of mud and bury him. Then, Roman creates a flower, a bright blue rose, that he plants into the dirt, marking the grave. 

By morning, there is an entire rose bush there, a flower that is one of a kind, and forever magic. To this day, that rose bush still exists, it still lives and breathes, and is tended too. But the poor man's family never did know that he had died; perhaps it would've been easier to know that, to come home and find someone is gone is sometimes harder to bear than the finality of death, after all.

\--

Following this incident, something of a court was established. It never truly stuck or stayed; mainly because Roman could not once stand the sight of his brother and also because Thomas can never quit an argument. But they set the main laws in stone and left each other to their own devices. The Summer Fae were to deal with Human affrays should a deal be struck, because Remus could not be trusted, but Dee is not ready to handle genuine contact with the Human folk, and Roman would simply be too kind. The Winter Fae were to keep to their own, the iron gates reconstructed and sealed closed. The forest became more divided due to the hostility between the Winter and Spring folk, whilst Autumn Faeries became even more reclusive, intimidated by their bloodthirsty neighbours. 

This continued for a good century or so, and then they got Patton.


	4. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy, Emile and Damian.

> **In the Strength Tarot card, a woman gently strokes a lion on its forehead and jaw. Even though it is known for its ferociousness, the woman has tamed this wild beast with her calming, loving energy. The lion is a symbol of raw passions and desires, and in taming him, the woman shows that animal instinct and raw passion can be expressed in positive ways when inner strength and resilience are applied. She doesn’t use force or coercion; she channels her inner strength to subdue and subtly control the lion.**
> 
> **The woman wears a white robe, showing her purity of spirit, and a belt and crown of flowers that represent the fullest, most beautiful expression of nature. Over her head is the symbol of infinity, representing her infinite potential and wisdom.**

* * *

Damian didn’t know what he had been expecting, truly, from the little fire demon. He won’t lie and say he didn’t know Remy existed, the entire forest knows Remy exists and had the moment he started to become an exploding star every other week. The forest screams when it’s in pain; and anyone who understands the forest can know when it’s alight. For some time, he’d often wondered if Roman were to take care of this one, after all it’s his domain and his job, but then he started to realise that perhaps it wasn’t that simple.

When he’d met Remy he understood, suddenly and quite unfortunately, exactly what it meant to care about these brash creatures. Damian doesn’t really believe too much in falling in love, he’d only done it once before and that hadn’t ended quite so well at all, but the way Remy talks like he’s both exhausted and ecstatic makes him feel curious at the very least.

So he invites him into his home and then walks him to safety at the sunrise, and stays by his side until Roman arrives; as though some part of him knew this Witch wasn’t safe, although then he would not have thought that it was from himself and his own mind, his own addictions. No, Dee simply had known he felt uneasy leaving Remy alone. Not because he didn’t trust the coven in the slightest, because honestly Emile is as much of a ray of sunshine as his boyfriend had gushed about, and Virgil seems extremely well put together. No, just an unsettled disruption in his own thought process.

He blames curiosity for why he returns too, that this boy had managed to snag at something in a heart he had assumed could never be revived. In some ways Remy reminds him of Roman; brash, intelligent, but impulsive and sporadic. The only real difference is that Remy has a fortress for a mind, Damian can sense and feel that his honesty only bleeds so far and that should unnerve him, it should tell him to walk away and never return and yet…he wouldn’t quite be himself if he did that. Although he doesn’t quite fall in love with the first pretty face he sees as Roman might, his nature commands him to be curious, to be knowledgeable. And he wants to know Remy.

So he keeps coming back. He comes to see Remy, and then he finds himself comfortable in Emile’s house. Even if it opens up a lot of old wounds to see Roman again after so many long and exhausting years. Emile offers him dinner with a smile that is almost demanding, the sort of face that you just don’t say no too unless you want to deal with a rather upset Witch. Remy sits so close that their arms brush against each other’s, his smile half fake but still bright and calm, he looks at Dee like he wants so much and still so little from him. The Faery doesn’t really know how to say no.

The first time Remy kisses him there’s no pause or wait for permission, just his own body trapped against a wall with warm lips pressing to his own, gasping for a breath. He remembers feeling hot and cold all over from the demanding way the Witch stole kisses from him, his hands resting on Remy’s waist as he tries to steady them both and slow down just a little. He remembers thinking that Remy must be crazy, that he certainly isn’t someone that this man, already complicated, would want in his life.

But Remy doesn’t value truth the way Roman had. And although Dee had certainly changed since then, the Witch doesn’t quite care about being lied too. It’s not that he feels as though he should be lied too, he just doesn’t care, and the sort of relationship he wants from Dee is not exactly one that requires truthfulness.

With Emile’s permission that’s the relationship he seeks from Dee, at first, initially, that’s all he wants; sex. Even without confirmation, the Pyro was putting two and two together on Emile’s orientation, and he felt this would satisfy all parties given that they are not naturally monogamous creatures. Damian is not unaware of the fact he is probably being used, as much as Remy isn’t unaware of the fact that the other is not all that he seems. Remy plays dumb for other people’s sake, but he’s perceptive enough to read Roman’s face when he sees Damian, and it’s nothing short of heartache written there.

Despite their similarities, Remy is not Roman, he sees a challenge where most people see warning signs. On top of that Roman has some semblance of self-worth, he knows love and lives and breathes it; Remy is neither particularly loving nor, unless you consider Emile, is he very good at knowing what love is supposed to look and feel like. Asshole men he can deal with, it’s loving and cute relationships he finds a struggle.

So, he keeps what he has with Dee, and he keeps what he has with Emile, and between the two of them he almost feels semi-normal, if not experiencing some serious whiplash between the two of them.

It took him years to admit his feelings for Emile, years to know what love feels like, he wishes he could articulate what exactly happened, or the exact moment he looked at Dee and fell in love. But he can’t, he’s Remy, and he doesn’t know how to identify love even now. What he does know is that he’s excited to see the prince before he arrives, that his heart stammers in his chest with every kiss, that he longs to hold him when the house is otherwise empty. Remy knows he starts to miss the other’s company on days where he isn’t here, that there’s a feeling even when he is with Emile that someone is missing.

It didn’t, in the end, happen gradually at all. Remy is tired of running away from his emotions, exhausted of pretending that there is nothing in him at all. So he kisses Dee as hard as he can and then confesses that he loves him. He doesn’t know if he loves him, he just knows those words feel right when he thinks them and says them. Damian raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“You can’t,” The prince muttered, stepping back a little, his eyes looking tired and…almost scared “I’m not doing this again, not with you, not with anyone,” He wants to run, Remy knows what that feels like and what that looks like, so he grabs his wrist and shakes his head.

“If I can’t run then neither can you,” For once, Damian does not think Remy is like Roman, for once he looks at him and sees years of fear and fury, years of scars and blame that he hauls around on his back. He sees himself. Remy takes a deep breath and holds the Faery’s hand, staring up at the other with a shrug “What happened with Roman?” The Faery prince wants to protest and tell him that’s not a story he can tell, but he knows that this is a point where for once he could just stand still instead of running away.

“I hurt him, very badly,” It’s not a lie, it’s the most honest truth he’s ever told in his life “Autumn Fae are very peaceful as a species but we maintain the entire history of our kind, of magic, of the future, we have all of that knowledge, but it’s knowledge that must be protected, because of it we are born with certain…dispositions, we struggle to tell the truth as greatly as we cannot lie,” Remy blinks at him slowly, the words settling in coldly “I couldn’t stop manipulating him even when I wanted too, I’ve tried since to change but for the most part I simply promised myself I’d never be here again,”

There’s a quiet pause before the Witch nods “Alright,” He says “I can work with that,” Damian says nothing but it might be because of the sock “I’m good at knowing when people are lying, but if you think I’m all sunshine and rainbows Damian then I have news for you,” He steps forward “I do _not_ break easily,” He leans up and kisses him “And I’m not Roman,” he mutters against his lips. This is the point that the Faery knows and understands that if he truly wants to progress from his loneliness, he _can’t_ keep comparing Remy to Roman.

Emile is extremely happy to have an answer to his problem, although Dee and Remy always offer, he almost always declines. If he needs that sort of relationship, he will go to them when he feels he needs it, but for the most part he’s happy for everything that comes after the sex. When the two of them stumble in, grinning and teasing each other and Dee helps Emile cook and clean, or later when Emile finally manages to sweet talk Dee into cuddles. The other Witch doesn’t really know how to bring it up at first, he’s aware of course that Damian and Remy are in a relationship and that in their own, strange way, they’re in love. But he can’t quite deny the fact that he enjoys having Damian around. That he looks forward to seeing him as much as Remy does.

It takes a long time, weeks, and months, before Emile brings it up. He’s blushing and stuttering and nowhere near the suave and demanding person that Remy was when he did this. But he does ask. Damian finds him…endearing, adorable, and although he had certainly been flirting lightly with the other since they had first met it’s something different to offer his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles, accepting the invitation. That’s the first time Emile kisses the Faery, his hands shaking just a little as he’s held close to the other man. It’s different from kissing Remy, who always seems to kiss like he’s running out of time, Dee holds him with steady hands and kisses him so slowly that Emile can feel the cogs in his brain slow to a halt, focused on the gentle movements. 

Remy grins at them both like all his dreams had just come true, leaning against the wooden table with his golden eyes glowing. “Stop it,” Emile mutters, burying his face in Dee’s chest to hide his flushed cheeks, earning a chuckle from the Faery, who wraps his arms around the Witch comfortingly. “You staring isn’t helping Rem,”

“When have I ever appeared to help?” The other leans up off the table and moves to run a gentle hand through Emile’s wings, grinning at the small shiver this elicits, before pressing an innocent kiss to his freckled cheek. “If you simply stopped being so adorable, I wouldn’t stare,”

From there Dee becomes something more permanent, even a little domestic. He spends the night quite often, sleeping between two men who genuinely adore him (Although Remy complains of trying to fit two people with wings in a bed whilst he gets crushed by them), and he loves that. He loves working in solitude and coming back to them, lending Emile a hand with his magic and spells, even if it’s just clearing things away after the other has had a stressful day. Emile was raised in a mixture of magical backgrounds; Roman’s influence has lent a hand in learning Fae magic, something incredibly hard to master. But Emile really does not see anything as impossible, it doesn’t surprise Dee in the end, to know that was what made him fall in love with the other Witch.

So he teaches him some Autumn magic, he teaches him the knowledge he knows because Emile loves to learn, he even tells him secrets that he would never trust with Remy; not secrets about himself, but hidden histories and secrets of the universe that no-one should ever truly know. He teaches Emile about why things die, about balance, and how karma works. The Witch loves knowledge, he loves learning more than anything. Even Dee cottons on however that Emile is almost too curious, too knowledgeable, his mind works so much more than a Human’s should.

“Is he a Witch?” Deceit asks Roman one day “I don’t mean to be prejudice, truly, I know Witches are clever but Emile is…” He looks at the trees as if willing them to stop listening “He understands things I have seen even Faeries struggle with, he speaks our language Roman, and…he understands the forest almost as much as we do, he communicates with it in some fashion even,”

Roman had given Damian a long and hard look, biting his lip as he shakes his head, as though deciding which truth to tell the other. “I don’t think he is only a Witch, if that’s what you’re asking,” He mutters, staring down at the ground as it hums beneath his feet “You and I both know more than anyone right now that sometimes we can’t know things, sometimes not until the right time or even not at all,” He glances back through the trees towards the coven and lets out a deep sigh “All that matters is that he is happy and he is comfortable, and should he ever seek that knowledge then I will fully support him in his endeavour to do so, but Dee?” Damian looks him in the eyes “Do not seek it yourself, I know it’s hard to resist when you love him and he is so very easy to love, but if he doesn’t want that knowledge you will not be able to resist from spilling it’s secrets, you will only hurt him,”

“He has a right to know his own heritage,” Damian protests.

“He does,” Roman agrees “But he doesn’t want too, it’s been over twenty years now Damian, he’s happy with the family he’s made for himself, he doesn’t need to go scrabbling through his own DNA for that,” The autumn prince sighs in heavy agreement “He has a family, he has you and me, and Remy and Virgil, he’s proud of the family he has and he doesn’t want another right now, don’t go digging through a history that no-one is prepared to handle, I don’t know why he was abandoned in the forest any more than he does, but I do know I’m happy he’s here and alive,”

Damian leaves it after that. Roman is right after all, Emile’s heritage may be as impossible as it seems to him but at the end of the day it’s up to the Witch to search for that knowledge, not for it to be handed unwillingly to him. Emile is happy, he’s happy with the life he has and the people he has.

And if, truly, he is part Fae, if he really is that _impossible_…well Damian does not think any of them will be too surprised.

\--

After all that happens, and Patton becomes what he is, Damian thinks long and hard about the rest of his life. He attends their wedding and finds it to be a hectic affair, he isn’t a people person after all and weddings tend to have quite a lot of those, but amidst it all he catches Remy’s grin and Emile’s fluttering excitement and for the first time in his life thinks _‘I understand it now,’_ he understands it all, life and what it’s about, love and what it pertains to. When Roman grins over at him, newly married and happy, he silently thanks him for leaving him.

He doesn’t know where or when he decides that the rest of his life would be this, but Dee squeezes his partners hands and feels such a belonging that he’d never felt before. He doesn’t hurry or rush to propose, although he knows it’s what he wants, the prince of Autumn feels like this brave new world that Patton is about to thrust on them all needs to calm down before another Faery prince goes and marries two witches. He also needs time to know that it is truly what he wants. His life will be very long, and so will theirs should everything go to plan, and although he thinks forever with Remy’s fiery temper and Emile’s gentle kisses would be perfect, he needs to know for sure.

It takes him months, months of planning and thinking and advice. He consults everyone but Emile and Remy on the matter at first and although Virgil is quite startled to be dragged to the side, he mostly can’t quite believe anyone wants to spend forever with his brother (in the nicest way possible). He reminds Dee that Remy is a commitment like nothing other, that he’s not just taking on the best of Remy for the rest of his life, but a hectic fire storm that burns whenever he feels like it. Damian laughed a little “Virgil, Remy being self-destructive is almost all I know of him, I love him nonetheless,” It’s true, out of all of them, Dee had shouldered most of Remy’s mental health issues, and had come the closest to helping him manage them. Out of all of them it’s easy to say that he is the only one that has actually truly managed to lessen Remy’s explosive self-harm addiction. Virgil smiles and nods.

“In that case, what’s stopping you? You love him, and you love Emile, marry them,” Years ago, Virgil would never think he’d have such an easy conversation on love. “Do you think they don’t love you?” The man flushes a little, his eyes averting “I can promise you they both love you, honestly I keep a close eye on my brother and…he was always going to be happy with Emile, but with both of you I have never seen him so happy, I never even expected him to ever be this happy, you’re good for him, and from what Roman has told me he’s good for you too,”

The autumn Faery had not quite considered how Remy and Emile would change him, but now as he thinks he cannot remember the last time he so much as bent the truth for either of them. If anything, he’s becoming so truthful (He really does blame Emile for this) that he barely recognises himself. He feels like this is a good thing, becoming someone new is not all that bad when you hated the person you were.

Roman of course is utterly useless for sound advice because he spends ten minutes gushing about how “cute this all is,” and almost immediately is planning a whole wedding. He loves Emile, who is practically his son in all senses except biology, but he also trusts Damian enough to say it’s a good idea. He’d initially kept a close eye of the autumn prince, but all seemed to be well, he’d genuinely tried to change. For the most part he isn’t worried because he knows Emile is kind, but he knows his limits, and Remy can keep a good handle on anything but himself. He urges Damian to go through with the proposal.

Easier said than done, really.

He’s usually good with words, it’s his job to be good with words. The moment he has Remy and Emile’s undivided attention he starts to stammer, his hands gesturing loosely as though it will help him convey everything he wanted to say. Like how he couldn’t imagine a life without them, like how they’ve made him a better person, how this is the most balanced he’d ever felt in his life. In the end he just sighs in defeat and utters a quiet “Will you marry me?”

Emile takes a deep breath in; his mouth opens and closes and his heart hammers in his chest. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know what to say. For the most part, he hadn’t even realised their relationship had gotten to such a stage. Remy bites his lip awkwardly, turning over the pros and cons in his head. Marriage is a lifelong commitment, it’s a commitment full stop. He stands up slowly, looking mostly terrified, but Damian grabs his wrist before he can run “If I don’t get to run, you don’t either,” He whispered softly.

Remy relaxes, he closes his eyes and it takes a moment to realise that he’s _crying_. “You’re allowed to say no, it’s okay,”

“I don’t want to say no,” Remy wipes his eyes with a sniffle “I just don’t know if I want to say yes, either,”

“Then don’t say anything, just think about it,” Emile takes Remy’s other hand and presses a kiss to the knuckles. Remy sighs and loses his eyes, trying to understand how or why these two people love him at all. He had never really considered marrying anyone, ever, up until meeting Emile he’d never really thought he was capable of being loved in such a way. Damian looks up at Emile “But, yes, if you both want too, then yes, but only if it’s what you both want,” The Witch with the hummingbird wings utters, his smile small and as quiet as he is. “Honestly I would love that,”

It takes weeks for Remy to come back with an answer though. Damian is not as surprised about this as he thinks he should be, but it does not stop him being restless about it either. This is his first time dealing with love in a serious and heartfelt manner, the first time he’s felt like he belongs with anyone, he doesn’t want it to be the end.

When Remy comes back he smiles, he hugs Damian and presses a gentle kiss to his lips “Go on then,” He mutters, as though it isn’t something he’d spent weeks losing sleep over “If you’re dumb enough to want me to be your husband then I’m dumb enough to be that,” Damian hasn’t cried in relief in many years, but for the loves of his life he is willing to make an exception.

They do, in fact, get married. And honestly Dee has not quite seen so much of Autumn show it’s face since his coronation almost 300 years ago. The first wedding since his friend’s quintuple wedding, and once again, stirring a little bit of a fuss. “Two witches?” Remus asks with a sigh, unable to quite hide the wrinkle of his nose “As least Roman had variety,” Dee slaps the upside of his head and tells him to go away, whilst Roman hands him his crown.

“Ignore him, he’s lonely,” The prince of spring snorts lightly, placing the golden and rusted brown crown atop Dee’s head “You look amazing, you all do,”

Emile looks absolutely beautiful, he always looks beautiful, but in that long purple skirt and sheer satin shirt, Damian barely knows what to do with himself. Remy looks like Remy, much like his brother attending his wedding, he’d opted for something less fancy. Skintight black trousers and a black long-sleeved shirt. “You know, you’re technically royalty once this is over,” Roman informs Remy, who looks like he’s about to try and run again. “Wrong thing to say?”

“Just a little, yeah Ro,” Emile sighs, holding his partner’s hand.

The ceremony is short and sweet, and the officiator is just a little amused by these princes and the chaos they’re causing in the order of the world. Damian takes his partners' hand and feels the excitement flutter through him, smiling like he had never smiled before. Remy, although nervous, stares at the ribbon around his hand with a deep breath, whilst Emile is barely able to stand still from how much energy he currently has.

“Until death do you part,” The officiator announces.

Remy breathes as though he'd been holding a breath for his entire life. His eyes meeting Emile's and then Damian's, his husbands. A grin passes over his lips and he nods. Until death do them part, yeah, he can live with that.


	5. The Hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton can hear the Earth screaming.

**The Hierophant: Following the bounds of tradition. What is tried and true is valued, and it is not time to stray from the path. This card can also represent the pursuit of knowledge, or a spiritual guide. **

* * *

The mid-afternoon breeze settles around the coven in the summer warmth, trees swaying gently as the green and colourful scenery brightens those who reside there. Except, Virgil, who is currently trying to find one of his partners.

“I’ve not seen him all morning,” he explains to Roman, whose legs are crossed neatly whilst using a table as a chair, much to Emile’s chagrin who has told him multiple times ‘you can’t just use everything as a chair!’. “He’s seemed a little off the last few days and now he just disappears? It’s not like Patton to do that, new magical powers or not,” Roman hums in agreement, chewing the grape in his mouth much slower than needed for something so small.

“I’ll go and look for him, he won’t have gotten far, I suspect he’s just needing a break, nevertheless I’ll go and check on him, if he wants to be alone I’ll leave him alone, but at least we’ll know he’s okay,” The Faery presses a soft kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand, lips grazing the knuckles as he smiles. “You know our Patton, he’s always okay, it’s remarkable in fact that one man can have so much resilience,” He chuckles, but there are nerves behind his smile.

And so Roman journeys out into the woods, following the breeze and it’s whispered secrets until he finds himself in a clearing, in the heart of summer territory, and Patton, sat cross-legged with his palms pressed into the blades of grass. His eyes are closed but he tilts his head in the direction of Roman’s steps as though the wind had just announced the other’s presence. The prince sits down beside him and waits. “Can you hear her?” Patton asks softly “Can you hear her screaming, Roman?” The king opens his eyes, a ghost in his appearance with a heartbreak so full of anguish that Roman knows he must feel it, as he had felt for years.

It is around this time, as the Earth heats more and more each year, that it tends to burst into flames. Patton, unused to the same centuries of hearing the anguish of the world, is distressed by the screams and howls of agony that he can hear continents away from where he is sat. The Earth is all one thing, it isn’t countries or capitals, or borders, it is one living and breathing thing. And as king he has to feel that.

“I can, I do, every time,” Roman whispers softly, holding out a hand to rest so gently over Patton’s, pressed into the dirt as he rests his head against the once-human. The prince does not console him, he knows too well there is no consolation for this pain, the knowledge that their Earth which they had cared for, that their souls had tended too, was dying; there is nothing that can soothe that sort of anguish, that brutal kind of misery.

“You were supposed to love me, you were supposed to care for me, I housed you, I breathed life into you, I cared for you, and now I cry, I scream for you,” Patton whispers, the voices pressed into his mind. “My waters perish, we run dry, you polluted us, you filled us with death, you with your names and your hollow wealth, you who we nurtured, who we held between our hands, you did this to us,” Tears brim in his eyes and Roman’s hands wrap around his wrist, reminding him he is not alone and that they can mourn together. “We have only ever loved you and in return to pay us with fear and fire,” Patton’s voice hitches, tears dripping to the grass, but his eyes remain wide open, translating the sea and the sky and the trees and the burned ashes of a dying world. Roman cries with him, the heavy weight falling too them both.

“The oil is suffocating us, fire in the water, the tides wash up more of our kin each day, soon we will not be able to feed you, and we will still cry for you have perished,” Patton takes a deep breath “Even the water is crying,” he whispers “It is so full of…everything, it is going to be sick,” he shakes his head “They’re going to suffocate this planet if they don’t learn how to control their actions,”

“The humans?” Roman asks.

“No, no, the corporations,” Patton replies bitterly “There is no ounce of humanity in those fools,” Roman doesn’t really know what that means, but he understands somehow as he takes Patton’s hand in his own and presses a kiss to the knuckles. “They let their own starve and die on the streets whilst feeding money to people who hold those with nought at gunpoint for something so fake,” He…crackles, a shock on electricity that Roman does not flinch too. He has always known a fiery sort of anger. “Money,” His jaw clenches a little “Money is…the plague that humans have made an unachievable goal, that people starve and dehydrate over it, the food that isn’t even theirs to take,”

“That’s not true,” Roman utters “The food is there for them, it’s there because she put it there for them helped them grow and understand how to live, the food is theirs, but it is everyone’s,” He stands and helps Patton to his feet “I know you must feel like you have to carry the world my love, but you don’t, the humans will…understand in time, or so I certainly hope, and they will do what is necessary, in the meantime we can only mourn what we have lost and look for the new things that will be born, our powers are…limited, and they’re just not ready to understand,” Patton closes his eyes.

“I can’t accept that,”

“I know, it must be exhausting, having all of this power and understanding that it will take years or centuries to have control over it, but I trust in her, I trust that whatever the plan is, she will guide us,” Roman sighs “Even if the endgame is not what we wanted, we alone couldn’t make it just,”

“We could just…” He trails off “No, you’re right, the humans have survived much before, they can survive this now,” He holds Roman’s hands tight “See, this is why I married you, who else is going to stop me ripping out billionaire’s throats?”

“That was your plan?”

“With my teeth,” Patton smiles, a little too brightly, and Roman laughs.

“That sounds…mildly attractive, I must admit,” The king laughs too then, and the leaves of the trees brighten just a little. “They will be okay, I know you love humanity despite all that has occurred, I know you believe in the collective, and they will do it, eventually, they will take control and fight back, it just may take time and patience to do so,” the prince presses a kiss to Patton’s cheek so sweetly. “Now, we should go before Virgil tears the whole forest apart looking for you,”

The two hold hands, carrying the voices and tears in their hearts, willing it to stop but unable to truly ever get rid of it. It may be many years before they see change, maybe more than human lifetimes endure. But they hope that one day it will come.


	6. The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fairytale of the King

> ** _The Magician:_ **
> 
> ** _He stands with one arm stretched upwards towards the Universe, and the other pointing down to the earth. His positioning represents his connection between the spiritual realms and the material realms. The Magician uses this relationship to create and manifest his goals in the physical realm. He is the conduit that converts energy into matter. The Magician’s robe is white, symbolising purity, and his cloak is red, representing worldly experience and knowledge._ **
> 
> ** _On the table in front of him are the four symbols of the Tarot suits – a cup, pentacle, sword and wand – each symbolising one of the four elements – water, earth, air and fire. It is also a sign that he has all the tools (and elements) he needs to manifest his intentions into being. Above his head is the infinity symbol, and around his waist is a snake biting its own tail – both of which signal that he has access to unlimited potential. And in the foreground is an array of foliage and flowers, symbolising the blossoming and fruition of his ideas and aspirations._ **

\--

All good fairytales start with a “once upon a time,” but what does that mean? _What_ time? And _why_ only once? Let’s be a little more distinct with this fairytale, not once upon a time or a place, but once in the very beginning. 

When the Earth was but a poorly looking rock hanging miserably in the universe without decoration or a name, the flowers and the plants flourished, the river waters were clear bar the rich dirt, the trees were plentiful and spread across most of its surface. Nobody lived there yet except the earth and the water, both very important to this story. You see, the earth loved the water very much and the water in return, adored the earth, this is important to remember because that's where the story starts; with love, and souls. 

As the earth was far too quiet, the trees thought this was no good; for if they are to exist and communicate, then what for? The sea, noting the loneliness of the forest (it's love, and it's only company bar the little things that live in it), gave it a gift; an animal. The animal was so small and had barely learned to walk, but the trees were so happy with their gift that they _promise_ they would make it big and strong. But unlike the trees, the animal got sick easily, it was frail, it’s life span was too short. So the trees cared for its children and so the cycle repeated. 

The hands of the earth, over many hundreds of years, fostered the creature and taught it how to evolve, moulding it. It’s children got bigger and bigger, changing and changing until it was nothing like the creature the sea had once offered it at all. 

The creatures, now many, learned how to talk with each other and have fun and love and care. The trees were very pleased with its creation and left them to their own devices, happy that their job as mother earth had been fulfilled; they had cared for life, but now the life could care for itself. 

Some of the trees wanted to talk to their creatures, their ‘humans’, they wanted to see what they could communicate, wanted to physically be present and understand them. They wanted to be understood by them. Using their souls and their magic (what would much later be referred to as 'science' in the most extraordinary sort of way), they created bodies out of dirt and clay and breathed life into them. These were the first four faeries to ever grace the earth. Older than humankind in one way, and younger in another, how funny is that? 

Their new bodies housed the soul of the earth, and they were wonderful. 

Each had separate powers fitting to their personalities; each was offered a corner of the year in which to rule; spring, summer, autumn, or winter, in accordance to how their powers and personalities would work. The life-bringer was spring, who adored all things that held their own breath, the spirited one was summer, who could never sit still and was always keen to keep in high spirits, the book-keeper was autumn, who held all of the knowledge of the universe behind its eyes, and lastly, the hunter was winter, who liked to see things turn to cold.

They all introduced themselves to humankind with a gift, who inevitably worshipped them as gods. Spring brought fresh fruits and fertile fields so that they might always be able to tend to their own needs in terms of nourishment. Summer brought them the gift of desire and fertility, so that humankind may always continue on as a race, it was not a gift bestowed on the individual, but rather as a society. Autumn brought the gift of knowledge to the humans, teaching them about their foods and bodies and the world around them, so that they may always evolve and always have stories to tell. Then, winter brought weapons. It was not a particularly bad call at the time after all humans already had weapons, it's how they hunted, but the gift had been handed with a sinister sort of smile as if they had known that one day those weapons would no longer be used on rabbits and sheep.

Still, they had no reason to believe there was a sinister undertone and the four faeries lived in harmony for a very long time, they would drink together, eat together, breed together. They created more of them, some born from the forest itself and some from each other out of love or desire or something else. The faery forest grew and grew, they would talk to the humans and offer them gifts, some would fall in love with them and keep them for their own. It was all okay, everything was utterly wonderful, perfectly splendid.

Until one day a fight broke out between them. 

The winter faery, cold and arrogant, wondered why they must enslave their lives to things _they_ have created; the humans had caused them no harm at all, but they believed that they were being taken advantage of. The spring faery, appalled, had replied that one helps care for another out of love and because they had helped create the humans, they have a duty of care for the fumbling creatures. They were by all intents and purposes, their children as much as the young faeries were. The autumnal faery and the summer faery, torn between the two arguments, had abstained from picking a side. After all, neither of them believed these gifts to be in any way of exhausting of them, and besides, they benefit themselves in the process of sharing them.

So they settled it via a duel. By now the forest was full of faeries, all very young and about to witness the first duel. The winter faery did not play nicely, and the poor spring prince was no good in a fight. So on the same day, they all had to witness their first funeral. 

A new prince was elected but the court was in disarray. Should there be laws in which a faery cannot kill another? Should murder be allowed under any circumstance? The winter court had been bathed in blood and their prince had gotten a taste for it, their determination was that sometimes...things _deserve_ to die. The other princes were visibly uncomfortable by the premise, even autumn in which all things die under their reign very slowly. The murder was not a natural death, murder is unnatural by every means. 

But that night, the winter fae went into the human village with a taste on their tongue that could not be satiated. They killed almost all of them, bar the children, and a handful of the elderly. 

The other princes, furious and heartbroken, banished the faeries to their own part of the forest where all things must go to die, they ferry the dead souls and continue the icy clock of the world, but they must not under any circumstances, leave it. The other princes placed a forcefield of sorts over it, no-one may enter or leave. 

This continued for a very long time, more human settlers arrived in what is now a village, and it grows from perhaps fifteen or so people to a wild eighty-five in the space of but two years. Their population grows, but they are scared of the Good Neighbors in the forest, they do not accept their gifts and they lock them away behind a gate made of iron, blessed with the holy water of their god. 

The faeries mourn the loss of their children, but as boundaries are set, they do not disturb them. They _cannot_ disturb them anymore. 

With no-one to offer their gifts, they return to their day to day lives in mimicry of human society, they form kingdoms within the world of earth, using their magic to make places bigger and smaller to the human eye, concealing their societies safely from the worry of the human world. But the autumn and summer prince have lost their children, the reason they came to the human realm now lost, they decide they would like to return to the earth’s heart, and with them, they take the winter prince, who is kicking and screaming the whole way. 

But the prince is too dangerous to be left here alone. They destroy their body and return the soul to the trees, before sacrificing their owl feeble flesh to do the same. With their return, the forcefield is lifted and the winter-kind are allowed to mingle in the rest of the forest once more. 

They vowed and they promised, that should humankind ever need them again, should the world become too dire and their society too fragile, they would return. This time not as separate people as that had already proved too dangerous but as a whole in which together, they could make the right decisions, not fighting against one another but working together. With this infusion, they should bring a human soul awaiting its reincarnation, this way the soul can learn to love and grow and understand as a human, and not as some form of god. Humans, they had learned, are easily afraid, and with fear comes the need to do right by other people in most circumstances.

Then, and only then, would they return, in the form of a _king_.


End file.
